


we who feast on stars

by dachenabritta



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Android Rey, Cyberpunk AU, F/M, Implied/Referenced Torture, Medical Torture, On the Run, Prostitution, Referenced Non-Con - Freeform, Sex Robots, a.i inspo, blade runner inspo, drugs and alcohol, loss of parent, non-con in chapter 6 (not Ben), nonconsensual body modifications, some violence, the year is 2098
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:41:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27551704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dachenabritta/pseuds/dachenabritta
Summary: Running away from the only thing he knows, Ben Solo encounters a sex android working at a brothel in one of the country's most disgusting cities.Androids are supposed to not feel anything. No emotions. No desires. Nothing.Key word:supposed
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 105
Kudos: 126





	1. 1̸̧̢

**Author's Note:**

> In an effort to get the writing juices flowing again, I'm starting another WIP...to help with my other WIPs....yea sorry. 
> 
> I've had this idea bouncing around in my head for a while and I've seen Blade Runner 2049 far too many times. Cyberpunk is such an interesting genre and I'm excited to explore it.
> 
> enjoy!  
> Chaney

_It’s nothing to fret over, Kylo._

_They can’t feel anything. They are only parts and gears, moving together in a dance that appears real._

_Just androids._

__

He walks into the bar too late at night. The party already started, people dancing to music so loud it rings through his head. The place smells like sweat and alcohol. The patrons are yelling for more rounds. More drugs. More, more, more.

He’s still dripping wet from the outside downpour, the city’s neon lights reflecting in the puddles of the black top. In a world full of garbage, disease and fog, the only sights of beauty are ones you must seek. They’re hardly ever just happened on.

Four drinks later, Ben is feeling much better. It’s like the weight on his shoulders begins to lessen, the water in his heart draining as well. He’d shed his long overcoat 20 minutes after arriving and has quite literally refused hands to dance- both women’s _and_ men’s.

The bartender has been keeping quite the eye on him too. Either out of safety for the other patrons, since Ben is massive compared to other people and humanoids, or to the obvious fact of his attractiveness, which he still doesn’t comprehend.

Humans are too messy. They always have been. And in a world full of artificial intelligence and beings so _terrifyingly_ close to you and I, the lines become blurry around the graphical edges.

His car is hidden in the back alley, stolen away from prying eyes. The Order should’t find him here. Drove City is much too disgusting for them to sift through and Ben knows it. It will only be a manner of time though when they discover his tracking chip 60 miles east of the city. Even Ben knows Snoke’s smart enough to retrace his path.

The stress causes him to drink even more, the brandy sloshing down with ease. He craves touch for the first time in years. It could either be the liquid courage, or the fact that he’s escaped such a sterile environment, but when the waitress returns, hair in long, pink dreads and accompanying cocoa skin that would make any healthy man drool, his delayed brain acts on instinct.

“D-do you wanna,” _hiccup,_ “do you w-wanna get outta here?”

His words are such a drunken slur that the woman’s brows knit, trying to understand him. She’s drying a glass, and the music is too loud.

“If you’re trying to hit on me buddy, it’s not gonna work.”

Ben tilts his head in surprise. Wasn’t _she_ flirting with him either?

Or has it seriously been that long.

“O-oh. Imma sorry.” He slaps the sides of his cheeks, attempting to revive his mind. “I’ll j-just-“

Ben needs to leave. He needs to get to an inn, find one of the people on the list he stole and leave. But he also needs to leave because his face is reddening in embarrassment.

The bartender grabs his bare arm, inked to oblivion, before he can leave the stool.

“I might not be…what you’re looking for.”

Her eyes nod up to the ceiling, then her manicured finger points to a staircase at the back of the club. Ben didn’t see it before. The stairs are dark, like the rest of the building, moments away from collapsing.

“Ask for Johnny. He’ll give you a deal.” She winks and turns, going to serve the other guests.

Unsure what she’s talking about, Ben wanders through the mass of sweating dancers, and up the squeaky stairs, the vibrations still strong under his feet, but the sounds are slowly dying. He approaches the second floor and it looks like a lobby with green carpet, blank walls and a single desk.

A man stands behind the desk along with dozens of keys behind him, hung on the wall. He may be drunk but Ben is not stupid.

This is a brothel.

He stumbles to the desk, the man standing up straight when Ben’s eyes waver across the shimmering keys. There’s so many.

“Can I help you?” The man asks, irritation in his voice.

Can he? Ben has never paid for a companion, nevertheless someone to _fuck_ him. There was never any time. And he had other priorities.

“Uhhh…” he’s got to make a decision.

Ben swallows.

“S-sure. Give me the best you got.”

The man’s demeanor shifts, a smile now plastered on his face. He jots down a few things to the screen residing in the desk, then whistles, grabbing a key at the same time.

“You’ll be in room, 32.” He places the key in Ben’s still hand. “739 will meet you there. She’s our number one girl.”

Ben nods and places whatever card he has left on the desk. The man hums as he taps the card, filling out a few more boxes.

“She’s a real treat. Some of her regulars say she feels _just_ like the real thing.”

That throws Ben as he clumsily grabs the card back. The real thing? Is he referring to-

“Aren’t the girls here… _you know_ …”

He laughs. “Human prostitution has been illegal since 2084. You have to be living under a damn rock not to know _that._ All my girls here are androids, from every make, model and brand. And _only_ the best is here at Johnny’s.”

His name rings a bell. “You’re Johnny?”

“Yep. Someone downstairs send ya?”

Ben nods, trying to remember if she ever told him her name. “Yes, she’s at the bar, pink hair, um. She has a tattoo on her hand.”

“Ah. Jolene. She always sends me some real nice folk.” Johnny, apparently, slaps a hand onto Ben’s shoulder, causing him to flinch. “Since it’s _Jolene_ …how about an extra 30 minutes? On the house.”

Nodding again, Ben thanks him and heads off to the long hallway containing the two rows of doors. The sounds emitting from beyond the walls are lewd and disgusting- and most likely to be coming from him soon too.

He stands before room 32, nervous. The alcohol is supposed to suppress his anxiety, not amplify it.

The key slides in smoothly, and Ben enters a room only lit by a single lamp. It reeks of woman’s perfume and mildew. The furniture appears luxurious but when Ben sits down on the bed, jacket looped around his forearms, it creaks wildly from poor quality.

Ben has no idea what time it is. He doesn’t even know how much time he gets with this…thing.

Ben doesn’t understand why he’s even here.

But only moments pass until the door opens and the hallway lights flood the room, the android encased in shadows. She walks closer to the lamplight, shutting and locking the door before, until Ben can really get a good look at her.

She’s average sized, but her legs appear long due to the excessively short dress she wears. Like many of the other females here in Drove City, her hair is some wacky color combination: blue with black tips, cropped to her shoulders and above her brows. Her neck is black, along with the tips of her shoulders, and dual lines runs down the centers of her cheeks. The skin that is not carbon fiber is rosy and so human like, Ben has to blink a few times to clear his mind.

_Since when did androids start to look so real?_

Whatever setting she’s on right now must be a factory base. 739 walks with calculated steps, watching Ben with cold, blue eyes, and no emotion on her face. Like a serving android at a restaurant, she is just doing her job.

“Greetings, patron. I am model J739. Please confirm your order.” Her voice is human, but mechanical. It never rises. It never lowers.

“I-uh. I confirm.” Ben is not sure if that’s right, but something audibly clicks from behind her.

It must be a mode switch, because 739 changes her entire demeanor. Her body relaxes, her hands coming to hips and her head cocking to him, a grin distorting her facial gears.

“Hello, handsome.”

Even her voice has done a 180. It’s sultry and Ben can’t help but scoot back on the bed. He feels like prey, even though he’s the paying customer and _she’s_ the…whatever she is.

739 saunters to him on the bed, until she’s completely straddling him. Her now dark brown eyes trail down to his jacket. She picks it up, flinging it to the abyss of the room.

Hands that are soft and _warm,_ wander up his chest until she’s cupping both his cheeks and searching his eyes, like she’s trying to diagnose a problem.

This is the closest Ben has been to well, _anybody_ really, in forever and he’s _really_ trying not to vomit up his drinks.

“You're nervous,” she says, matter of fact. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

He gulps. “It’s B-Ben.”

She purrs, hands going back to his chest where his black t-shirt strains against his muscles. “Well, _Ben,_ there’s no need to be scared tonight. I’m here to make you feel good.”

739 pushes him down on the bed, Ben’s head into the pillows.

“ _Very_ good.”

He doesn’t have time to say anything back because she’s yanking the skin tight dress over her head in seconds. The glittery silver thing looks to be made from cheesecloth from it's lightness and her hair is not mused in the slightest. There’s not a scrap of underwear on her, or a bra, so Ben is welcomed to the full, uncensored view of a naked woman.

Her breasts are small but perky, which seems unusual for a sex android. Isn’t the entire point that they’re just a man’s fantasy? Large breasts, tight stomach and round ass? The patch of hair below her navel is confusing too. Ben had no idea men were into that anymore.

“Like what you see, Ben?”

Ben can only clear his throat, nodding just enough to acknowledge her question. She giggles like a school girl and grabs for both his hands, placing them immediately to her breasts.

“Just tell me want you want, baby,” 739 slurs, “I can be anything you want. I can pretend that I’m your wife. Or even better- I’m someone _else’s_ wife.”

Because he can’t help it, Ben is becoming obscenely hard beneath his pants. She must notice because she giggles again and begins to grind, Ben unable to suppress a groan.

“Ah, you like cheaters then? How about I’m a mobster’s wife tonight, and you’re the rival gang leader. Our love making will be hot and forbidden, and you’ll come for m-“

Ben covers her mouth. He’s never been into roleplaying to begin and she just sounds like a porno at this point.

“H-how about we just have sex. Like as you and me.” He still can’t look her in the eyes. Even if she isn’t human. But Ben has always had that problem.

“Oh.” Her programming must be trying to catch up with Ben’s latest command. He glances around the room, and notices cracks on the ceiling and some shattering on the window. This place really is a dump.

“I can do that. Just you and me?” She asks, tone a little breathless.

“Uh. Yea. Like normal humans, I guess.”

739 is apparently having a _lot_ of difficulty with this command. She first tries to place hands around his throat but then stops herself. Her grinding comes to a halt. Eyes that were previously half lidded with faux lust open wide, scanning his face and arms.

“I don’t understand your command, Ben.”

Sex robots have their intellectual limit apparently. 739 just slumps in defeat.

Ben feels bad.

He came here to just stick his dick in something, if he’s honest. Ben’s still tipsy to talk a lot, but he flips them, so 739 is below him, eyes still downcast and defeated.

He lost his virginity at 16. It’s been 15 years. The experience should still be the same. Right?

“Can I kiss you?”

Her brows quirk. “Of course. I am at your disposal. Why do you ask?”

He can’t help but chuckle. He’s about to explain _consent_ to a robot who’s only programming is to take whatever sexual advances they're given without doubt or question.

“Well, when two humans have sex, we always ask each other beforehand. It’s the right thing to do.”

739’s eyes search him, processing.

“Why is it the right thing?”

Oh great. Now he’ll have to explain _morality_ to her. And his boner is only getting worse.

“It just is, okay? People have to decide what’s right or wrong. It’s what makes us human.”

She’s silent for a long time after that, eyes now completely glazed over.

“Hello?” He asks, concern on his voice. Did he break her?

Her head whips back and forth until her smile returns, her eyes animated.

“My apologies, Ben. Yes. It is okay if you kiss me. And you may do whatever you’d like to me. I do not feel pain, but I can mimic it.”

It’s not _quite_ the response he was expecting back, but in Ben’s book it’s a green light. Not like he needed one. He dropped almost 500 bucks on her.

Her lips are soft when they meet his, Ben braced on both elbows and leaning down. 739 moans back and wraps her arms around his neck, drawing her naked body off the bed. God, she even has _saliva_ and it just as warm as her lips.

Ben goes to grind against her, relishing in the small bursts of pleasure it brings him. Everything about her is so…hot. In the metaphorical sense, yes, she is extremely attractive. But her center is like pure, wet heat.

He skips the carbon fiber sculpting her neck and heads to her collarbones, where his lips begin a trail down to her breasts. He grabs one while bringing the other to his mouth, moaning around the amazing feeling of a nipple in his mouth. God, it even hardens just like a human’s would.

Around this time, Ben would expect his partner to start demanding or begging. Because this is the time of foreplaying and teasing. But 739’s procedures must skip over this part, because when he looks up, she’s staring down at _him,_ confused and panting.

_It’s just her programming,_ Ben reminds himself. _She doesn’t even have lungs._

But if Ben wants this to play out as naturally as he wants, he’s going to have to help her.

“Can you ask me please?”

Her brow perks. “Ask what?”

“You have to ask me to fuck you.”

The same clicking sound happens a second time. She must be used to men saying nothing and just shoving their dick in whatever hole they feel like.

He grows even harder thinking of him in her _mouth._

“Oh. Okay. Fuck me. Please?”

It’s not the most convincing tone, but Ben supposes it will do. 739 is helping him out his pants while he rips his shirt off, never worrying about protection for a second. It’s not like a robot can get pregnant.

Ben’s lining himself up. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

“It won’t be,” she replies, too quick.

“That’s not…ugh.” Ben gives up. He’s already to this point and way too sober.

He sighs and pushes into her and _holy fucking shit, how has he been missing out on this?_

739 feels real. _Too_ real, in fact. Johnny wasn’t kidding. She’s wet and warm and _perfect,_ and it’s taking almost all of Ben’s strength not to come on the spot.

When he begins thrusting, it’s unpracticed and uneven. She doesn’t say anything, obviously unsure she’ll say the wrong thing again. But Ben can’t stand the silence.

“You can… _shit-_ y-you can talk. Or moan. O-or whatever the hell you usually say.”

She smiles at his words and wraps her legs around him welcomingly. It sounds like 739 had been attempting to hold back moans and now she’s _loud,_ wailing her supposed pleasure to the ceiling splattered with rainwater stains.

“Yes, Ben! Right there!” It sounds debauched yet _real_ and Ben finds that he loves it. “T-that spot, please, oh _god._ ”

Even after working with cybernetics as long as he has, Ben doesn’t know if a man’s performance will have any _true_ affect to a sex robot. There’s myths that secret buttons and switches are installed to vaginal and anal canals, like a real woman’s pleasure spots, and are treated like a mission for the finest of addicts.

He’s starting to believe that though, because Ben changes his angle so his cock drives upward into her, poking through her latex stomach and she _screams._

739 tightens and Ben must grasp her hips, trying to slow them both down. She’s impatient though, and continues to rock, whimpers echoing through the room.

Ben doesn’t even know if an android can actually come. But damn it all if he doesn’t try.

He lets go and grabs for her knees, hitching them around his elbows and rising until both hands grab the shaky headboard. 739 is bent in half, breasts kissing her thighs and now he’s hitting that spot _every time._

She moves her hands from around his neck to his wrists and Ben marvels at her strength. It feels like she could break his wrists if she _truly_ used the full capable strength of a cyber being.

He hopes she won’t.

He’s losing. Yes, finding a robot’s g-spot is fun and all, but he doubts she can actually _orgasm._ He assumes 739 is on a timer, and in the following seconds it’ll go off and she’ll shout her fake pleasure. Sex androids are “free thinkers” in gracious words, but they do follow whatever orders they were manufactured with.

But Ben has thrown off whatever sequence she usually follows. And she’s clenching. And…crying?

“I’m gonna- Ben p-please, I’m-“

He only glimpses one look into her watery eyes, which scare him because they are _searching. Begging_ him in a way he cannot bear.

And then 739 screams.

Ben can’t help but follow with her as she clenches and cries, like this pleasure is unknown to her. She’s clawing his forearms, drawing red marks around the black and gray pictures he’s collected over the years. Ben’s head slams against the headboard as he can’t stop coming, so unfamiliar with the feeling of being with a woman.

Or an android woman, if anyone asks. (No one ever will.)

He flops to the side of her, softening as he tries to catch his breath. 739 is either playing along _really_ well, or something is very wrong- because she’s still crying.

Ben leans up on his right elbow. “Are you okay?”

739 doesn’t respond. She just sniffles and sobs, staring mindlessly at the ceiling. Her irises keep rotating through different colors: blue then brown, split seconds of green until they’re black and blue and brown again.

Shit.

Ben rushes to put his clothes back on. He can’t afford to pay full price for damaging a high-end sex android. He doesn’t even have enough money for the _month_ now.

Being the shitty man he is, Ben only gives 739 one last look while he stands in the doorframe. It almost looks like she’s having a seizure.

_But it doesn’t matter._

That’s what Ben keeps repeating to himself, over and over again, as he rushes past the lobby, past Johnny, and out of the club.

_She's just an android._


	2. 2̶̧̡͕̗̱̞̣̝̱̜̋̋̉̈́̕͜

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My challenge for this fic is daily updates, with every chapter written in under 3 hours.
> 
> Let's see how this goes.

_Black market androids and cybernetics are all the rage nowadays._

_Have a pet with a broken paw? Easy. Replace it with automated one._

_Dad’s heart is failing? Get him a metal one. Though, that one's really going to cost you._

_First Order knows exactly what they’re doing. There’s a demand and they have the supply. Even though the majority of their work is illegal, it helps people. And Kylo only wants to help._

_The money doesn’t hurt too._

_His personal knowledge in the function of cybernetics is quite dismal. He runs the financials and communications anyways. He leaves the engineering and welding to the scientists._

_He has access to almost every single file within the company. He needs to, if people are going to be paid and get paid. Kylo just does his job. He hardly questions why the government would forbid the things they do. It’s just advanced robotics with the element of organic._

_It’s neither right nor wrong._

_There’s almost nothing that would make Kylo leave the company, not even his boss hollering and screaming at him when the monthly reports come back with a 0.002% decrease._

_Almost._

_Kylo is curious. It’s one of his traits Snoke deems his worse._

_Kylo would agree._

__

Rather than attempting to drive away in his car, Ben just sprints four city blocks over to a shitty inn in another shitty building. There’s a vomit green light that surrounds the door’s automated entrance and Ben is quick to leave his card at the counter. The receptionist doesn’t even bother asking for his name.

Ben stares out to Drove City from his fifth floor window. Over the skyline of concrete and metal, lights from billboards illuminate the roofs. Wires run all over the place, creating a grotesque nest of man’s own making.

That’s really all they’ve become, hasn’t it? Just organics, here to live and die on a planet who’s breathing her last breath. Ben has seen a tree once in his life. He was 7.

People are coagulated in the streets below him. There’s also a mix of androids, mechanical parts whirring visible even from his view. Ben doesn’t want to think of androids though. Not anymore tonight, at least.

He drops his jacket and boots onto the chair and collapses on the bed. His blood is still pumping from the encounter he had with the…thing. And if he hadn’t run off like the prick he is, Ben would be feeling relaxed and relieved.

He’s not.

Ben will just sleep. He’ll ignore what’s clearly before him. Like he always has.

His eyes close and he drifts off, the sounds of a world no longer belonging to anyone, lulling him to sleep.

__

_“If you’re going to start sifting through places you don’t belong, Kylo, you may need to find a new job.”_

_He gulps, intimated for the first time in years. Truly intimated._

_“I’m sorry, sir. I’ll make sure to keep out.”_

_“Good,” he purrs back, pleased, “good.”_

__

Ben wakes to an awful stream of daylight pouring through his grimy window.

His head swims and he can hardly open his eyes.

Ben is hungover.

He groans, stumbling to the bathroom and trying to drink water from the faucet. It’s rancid though, like most things in this city, and he immediately spits it out.

There’s at least a gallon of water in the trunk of his car. He needs to head out as soon as possible anyway.

Drove City is even uglier in the daytime. The life that is possesses in the night is incredible compared to the lonely, drab style of it’s counterpart. The neon signs are dulled. The party goers have all gone to sleep. The only ones awake and here are the working citizens of this town.

Avoiding the club to the best of his abilities, Ben rounds the counter of a ramen vendor to find his speed light car still hidden under the dirty sheets he scavenged when driving in. He pulls them off with a tug, his ride in perfect condition.

He pops open the trunk with his fingerprint and digs for the water. There’s also an extra set of clothes, food to last him until next week, a few data banks and the loads and _loads_ of files he stole from First Order.

He really will be a dead man if they find him.

If.

It reminds him of the data stick he has cleverly hidden in the disguised pocket of his jacket. Ben sets down the water canteen and wrestles open the front of his jacket, fingers trying to grasp the object.

He begins to panic when he finds nothing there.

Now Ben’s _really_ searching, removing his coat completely to search the entire thing in an adrenaline rushed panic, muttering _no, no, no!_ as, alas, nothing appears.

Ben rushes back to the hotel to ask. They just cleaned his room. There was nothing left behind. Expect his card that he had left at the desk.

Which means there’s only one other place.

Well, _two._ Technically.

But Ben never took off his jacket in the club- it was only in the…

“Well, fuck.”

The entire point of running off was _not_ to cause a scene. But if Ben steps one more time into that brothel, he’s aware a fairly violent scene will happen.

Investing in an android in like investing in a house.

He remains hidden in the shadows of the building, spotting a ladder that ascends past the first floor of the club, to the brothel. It may be a fire escape, he’s not sure, but he’s desperate.

That data stick is Ben’s only chance.

He’s up the creaky thing before he has time to think, and it leads directly to the lobby. The window isn’t locked of closed, so Ben creeps in as well as a 6’3 man in squeaky leather can.

Thankfully, no one’s around. It’s not high ball hour. He prays no one needs a morning bang.

It’s quiet until Ben begins to approach the rooms. He searches through his muddy mind of last night. _Was it room 37? Or was is 31? No, no, I think it was-_

The door of room 32 goes flying off the walls, into the wall across from it.

And so does Johnny.

He yelps as his back crashes into the metal, the forgotten door in tow next to him. Johnny is huffing and swearing, staring back at whatever threw him at such high speed through a _fucking door frame._

“You fucking cocksucker!”

It’s her voice. Not mechanical, not sultry. She sounds like a woman. A very angry woman.

Johnny cowers his hands in fear over his face, begging something inaudible. There’s some more crashing inside the room and both men are frozen in fear. Ben does’t think the man has noticed his presence yet.

“I d-don’t understa-“ Johnny tries to mutter out but the lamp is thrown out of the room and smashes next to his head, pieces of porcelain going flying.

She finally emerges when the man scrambles to get up and Ben hardly recognizes her. The blue and black hair is gone, and now it being a wig makes more sense. Instead, she has sleek, brown hair that inches towards her shoulder blades. She’s thrown the dress back on too, seeing as that must be her only outfit.

739 holds a leg from the desk chair in the room. She doesn’t notice Ben there either.

“Either you explain to me what the _fuck_ I’m doing here or I-“

She’s going to kill this man.

Ben can’t watch anymore people die.

He _bolts_ over to her, only catching a glimpse of her now forest green eyes before he snatches the metal rod from her hand. She stumbles as Johnny backs away on his palms, terrified for good reason.

“Y-you!” He exclaims. “What the hell did you do to her?!”

Ben doesn’t have the time to explain because she’s lunging for him and has both hands around his neck, the two of them crashing down to the ground. Ben desperately tries to kick her off, but she’s lithe and strong. And obviously out for revenge.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” she screams.

So maybe she…isn’t out for revenge. She can’t even _remember_ him.

739 looks up to a still startled Johnny.

“I don’t know what’s happening and I-“ she peers down to Ben, obviously choking. “I’m…strong?”

Her voice has lowered to a whisper when her strength comes bearing down at her. Panic courses through her eyes when they meet Ben’s just like last night; like she’s begging him for something.

Her expression is too human.

And it’s frightening Ben more than losing consciousness.

Which he will, if she doesn’t let up. But Johnny must still have some good in him, because next thing he knows, 739 is swatted off of him with the same metal chair piece that she would have killed with.

She goes crashing into the wall and Ben scoots back at a reverent pace. The men rush to the lobby where Johnny goes for the phone, most likely to call the police. But Ben can’t have that. Not right now.

He grabs it from the older man’s grip and smashes it the ground before he thinks. 739 is still dented into the wall, unmoving.

“What the hell is wrong with you, boy!?” Johnny shouts. “You broke her and didn’t think I’d notice?! Now she’s gonna kill us _both.”_

Ben can’t have him going to any authorities. It’d be too big of a risk. He just needs to go. Now.

But Johnny has other plans. He begins wrestling Ben, shoving his back to the desk as he reaches for his wallet.

“I-it’s all your fault! You ruined my best droid!” He screams in hysterics.

Both men fail to notice the android slowly awakening and standing up.

“I didn’t break her!” Ben screams back, grabbing at the man’s fists. “It’s your fault you have such shitty sex bots! And she's clearly glitching!”

Johnny growls and slams Ben’s head hard enough into the counter that he’s seeing stars. He keeps kneeing him in the stomach too, and Ben is shocked that this man, who is almost a foot shorter than him, is winning.

“S-stop!” Ben shouts, still unaware of the looming woman sneaking up to them.

“I said st-!”

Ben’s startled when a small fist appears from thin air and knocks Johnny flat on his face.

The entire lobby is silent.

She just stands there, staring at her fist. Ben is gasping for breath and worried that he’s next.

But 739 doesn’t move.

She only begins to cry, still staring at her wrist.

“What… _what_ am I?”

She bids a teary glance up to Ben, who’s wracking his brain for any programming knowledge he can. He needs to put her into sleep mode. Her every move is unpredictable. He’ll need to trick her in order to reach the panel. They’re usually located in the back of an androids next, with a latch of metal sticking through the latex.

“I know you’re confused, but I can help.”

_Lie. But believable for a robot._

“You can?” She asks him, genuine emotion threaded into her voice.

_No, but I need to ensure I’m not getting killed by you, right here, right now._

Ben places his hand out towards her neck and breathes heavily, heart racing. She nods, so out of character. He doesn’t understand why she defended him in the first place.

With a gentle touch, he grabs around for the latch and 739 surprisingly leans into his touch.

“You’re so warm,” she comments. Ben says nothing back.

The latch is freed. His fingers trace the circular mode switch, then a data card next to it. Below both is the emergency sleep button.

739 does’t panic though. It’s like she has no idea she even _has_ a control panel.

Her hands come up and both grasp his arm, her wet cheek resting against his inked skin.

“Please take me home,” she sniffles out, “I want-“

She drops like a sack of potatoes.

Ben’s quick to catch her. She’s light, most likely due to the carbon fiber, but he lays her down, eyes closed and body completely shut off. Her words echo. Her words burn.

_Take me home._

To her manufacturer? Her previous owner? Ben doesn’t understand.

He’s running out of time though.

Ben rushes back to the room and inspects the tatters it’s been left in. The bed is ripped up, including the pillows. There’s shattered glass everywhere, and Ben’s boots crunch under it with every step. He checks under the bed, in the bathroom until he sees the data stick in the corner of the room, in a pile of metal and glass.

He could cry from relief. Ben picks it up and places it in the pocket with his wallet instead. He doubts his pants will be flung off anytime soon.

There’s only precious minutes left. Someone is bound to come up here and notice the absolute wreck of a man passed out on the floor and an android not too far away. When the police see this she’ll be terminated. Ripped limb for limb. Sent to the infernos of android hell.

It would be a horrible idea to pick up the android and carry her down the fire escape.

Just like how it would be a horrible idea to strap her into the front seat of his car and drape his jacket, so she’s engulfed like a blanket.

And it would be a horrible, terrible and downright _stupid_ idea to drive off with the android alongside him, the guilt of causing this entire problem slowly evaporating with every mile they distance from Drove City.


	3. 3̵̧̪̞̯̳̹̿̃

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW// Mention of rape and murder
> 
> Slight non-con (for Ben)

Ben drives. And drives and drives and drives.

It’s already nightfall by the time he reaches Arabellum.

The city of Arabellum is part of a synthetic forest. Plastic and man-made trees function as wind turbines for electricity and provide for the rather small town. When creating the groves of trees, the engineers didn’t bother with a natural look. They’re terrifying. Like claws reaching up to the stars; dark and reflective.

Hoping that First Order isn’t tracking the card he’s using, Ben checks into another inn. This one is smaller, and made of private buildings rather than apartments. Ben does not mind. Just more privacy for him.

Him and his most recent companion, that is.

He’s parked in front of the small building, electronic key in hand. She’s still sleeping. There must not be an automatic turn on after 12 hours.

Ben hauls his clothes, food, water and data files in first. Then, he rounds the car to pick up and cradle 739 in his arms, needing to push the door open with his foot instead of hands.

He doesn’t need to be gentle. But for some reason, Ben feels like he should.

The clock reads 23:09 when everything is set down and placed. This should be a good enough hiding place. For now.

The wind howls through the turbines outside. It’s like a scream and it sends a shiver down Ben’s back. But he doesn’t have the time to dwell on whatever lurks outsides these walls. He has work to do.

Ben begins by fishing out his tablet from his duffle. Next is the data stick, which was still perfectly in place next to his wallet. He’s able to grace past the passwords and firewalls with sheer luck. His knowledge with computers only exceeds so far.

Which becomes a problem when he can’t open a particular file.

Ben tries everything. Password break, VPN, and he even browses through a few sites, scanning for an answer.

Nothing.

He groans and rubs at his face, exhausted from the long drive. Hungry from loss of appetite. And his body still reels after his fight with Johnny.

There’s only one type of computer that can calculate a solution for his problem. But Ben doubts there’s any service shops close to him. The closest computer he has access to is-

Ben gulps when his eyes raise above the tablet to 739, still peacefully asleep on the bed.

It would be a dumb idea. Just like bringing her with him was.

But Ben needs this file open. And it’s time sensitive.

He can only sigh as he stands up.

This is not going to be easy.

739 lifts and locks into a sitting position, eyes still closed. Ben grabs at her wrists, then ankles, seeing as those are the primary locations for submersed buttons. But she stays still. He walks to the other side of the bed and places both knees into the mattress, one hand gripping her shoulder, the other her neck. The latch pops easy. The tricky part is the dial.

Androids like 739 run on a dial system. Similar to an old radio, the frequency can be switched by rotating. Ben guesses this must be the clicking sound he heard whenever she switched modes. But there’s no symbols or colors near the dial. It’ll be an all-guess game.

Ben takes a deep breath, grips the serrated knob, and turns.

She doesn’t move.

Ben rushes off the bed and gazes down at her. 739’s eyes are open and they are blue.

Her head tilts to look down at the floor, perhaps scanning him, then up to his face.

“Nín hǎo,” she says, smiling, “wǒ jiào J739, wǒ néng wéi nín fúwù ma?”

_What the fuc-_

It sounds like she’s speaking mandarin or something. Ben is a one-language man, which is rare in this world.

“Um. English? Switch mode to English.”

Her eyes remain focused on his. She begins to compute his request.

Her head tilts, down, then up again, the smile resetting.

“Hej, jag heter J739, hur kan jag hjälpa dig?” She echoes back in the same sing-song tone.

Ben could scream at the wall. He doesn’t have the slightest clue _what_ she saying. Or what language it’s in.

He reaches back around for the dial and she makes no move to stop him. He begins to turn it slowly.

_Click_

“Hola, mi nombre es-“

_Click_

“Zdravstvuyte, menya zovut J739-“

_Click_

“Hello, my name is J73-“

He turns the dial too fast before the English registers in his brain.

“No!” He shouts to the poor android.

She’s silent. No foreign languages. She just blinks, taking in his command. The only sound in the room is Ben’s abating breath, patiently waiting for whatever the hell she’s going to say next.

The smile resets.

“Bonjour, je m’appelle J739. Comment puis-je vous aider aujourd’hui?”

Ben falls to his knees before the android, groaning, tired and out of his wits. This is the _exact_ reason Ben never bothered with engineering. Leave it to the actual geniuses of society to figure this garbage out because right now, Ben just wants to send the pitiful thing out into the wild.

He can’t do that though. Her fate would be far worse out in the open rather than facing his personal fury.

Ben rises and tries to turn the dial backwards. It doesn’t budge.

“Fuck this shit,” he swears, the android paying no attention to his reaction. He has bigger things to deal with.

He returns back to his tablet to try anything else. He assumes 739 is speaking French, based off his piteous knowledge but does not engage in further conversation.

“Monsieur,” she pipes out across the room, “est-ce que je peux faire quelque chose pour vous ce soir?”

Ben groans, hunched over his tablet.

“Uh, no. No French please.”

She waits a few more moments, the clacking of Ben’s fingers hitting the screen becoming the only sound filling the room.

“S'il y a un problème avec ma fabrication, veuillez contacter mon administrateur.”

Sighing, Ben looks back up to her. “No. Um- _non._ I need you to speak English.”

Her smile is almost terrifying. It’s remained unkept and gleaming this entire time. And the blue of her eyes is like how the sky once was.

“Veuillez contacter 241 Primar pour plus d’informations-“

Ben blinks at her words because there’s something among them he understands.

“Wait,” he demands, standing back up and flying to back to 739. “Did you just say _241 Primar_?”

This mode must not compute English either. He knew she was glitching, but there must be something _extremely_ wrong with her. Androids should be able to switch to whatever preference the organic demands, in whatever language.

“Oui, veuillez contacter 241 Primar pour plus d’informations sur mes systèmes.”

Ben holds a breath in his lungs.

241 Primar is the address of First Order Operations.

AKA, the very people he’s running scared shitless away from.

Also, her manufacturer. 

He knew they dealt with certain types of 100% androids. But the margin for sex androids was so low, and their sales were so insignificant, that Ben never dove into those files.

The boxes of tablets sit idly on the motel desk.

He peeks through the first box for anything labeled even close to her manufacturer name. Androids always begin with a letter. If he’s correct, there should be a tablet named _J700_ \- seeing as she would be in the personal service category, _7._

The first three boxes produce no results. He stacks the glass screens atop each other on the patterned carpet. 739 says nothing and just watches.

He’s sweating when he reaches the 11th box. And his prayers must have been answered because at the very bottom sits a tablet, _J700_ labeled on the magnetic cover.

He flips through file after file. There’s an entire section about sex positions. Another on how to repair if someone damages the android’s throat. And another about the control panel.

Ben returns to the bed and sits behind the android. 739 does not question him or move. He is the only organic, the only authority, here and now. Based on the diagram, he was right about the dial. It only moves clockwise. The card next to it is a personality chip. Above the two is an insert and below is the failsafe sleep button. Ben knows _that_ one.

The instructions say the android will go into a reset mode if he twists the knob 360 degrees. Seeing as he has no choice, Ben grips and turns it, the clicking noise becoming a hiss.

She’s quiet. Until-

“Hello. My name is J739, how may I be of service?”

The relief that courses through Ben’s body is cool and refreshing. Like icy rain.

He’s quick to grab the tablet and insert a cable to the port in her neck. She looks down at the screen but is clearly waiting a command.

“Please open this folder,” Ben says, pointing to the screen.

Her blue eyes blink. Then she looks back up to Ben.

“I am unable to fulfill this request.” Her voice is flat but chipper. “I provide a plethora of services. If you require touch, to be touched, oral, anal or vaginal sex, please let me know. I can do-“

Ben slaps a hand over her mouth again. He can’t stand the way she says such things with no emotion or intimidation.

“God, no. Not right now, at least.” _Might as well give the thing some hope, right?_

He points back to the screen. “Open this. This is a command.”

Blue eyes roam, scanning each and every pixel. Clicking from the knob sounds from his neck, and before Ben knows it, the file is open.

He unplugs the tablet from 739, thanking her in haste. He has no idea what changed her mind. Or her programming. But she did it, besides Ben’s shock.

After days of trying, Ben’s _finally_ able to retrieve the list he’s so desperately sought. Just to be safe, Ben uploads the file to his watch _and_ his personal tablet, just in case anything was to happen to the original data stick. 

He doesn’t notice the mindless blabbering he’s doing while clicking from folder to folder. Only when he feels her arms, soft and warm, randomly looping past his shoulders to rest on his chest, does Ben realize he’s been murmuring _yes, open_ and _confirm_ over and over again.

739 must have picked up on the accidental _confirm._

She’s humming and has her chin set atop his head. The unwavering automated voice is replaced again by the flirtatious programming, like a siren coaxing the deepest desires from a sailor.

“What can I do for you tonight, handsome?”

If he ignores her, hopefully she’ll just go back into sleep mode. Ben needs to pay attention to his work.

But now she rubbing his biceps, heated palms rubbing lazy circles into his shoulder blades. “You’re nervous. I can help with that.”

It’s like hearing a movie on repeat. The dialogue is the same. The motions, too.

Ben continues to refuse her presence. She lets go of him and plants herself directly into his line of vision.

“I can’t help you if you’re on that thing,” 739 pouts.

_Just ignore her, her protocol has an automated sleep timer._

She taps a bare foot on the carpet. Ben doesn’t even give her a glance.

The floor creaks when 739 drops to her knees and practically _wrestles_ her way to his pants. She yanking on his belt, then his zipper and holy shit, she really is a glitchy _wreck_ because Ben is at this point physically fighting her over a blowjob.

“No, you don’t need to-“ He tries to grab her wrists, but she’s strong and shakes him off, accessing his briefs.

“ _Shit-_ no, it’s fine, y-you don’t have to-“

739’s artificial lips are around his dick before he can choke out another word.

And holy Jesus, was Ben _right._

Her lips and tongue are velvety smooth. Although she’s just following an algorithm, Ben’s impressed by how she responds to _his_ responses. Every time she dips and lifts her mouth, tongue swirling his head, Ben jerks and swears. So she does it again and again, until he’s breathless.

739 even goes through the effort of _moaning,_ the vibrations of sound creating soul-sucking pleasure from his head to his toes.

She keeps going, pleased with his reaction. Pleased she is doing her duty. After all, an android’s only purpose in life, the only thing that’ll give them some semblance of achievement, is following protocol. And following it _successfully._

He’s coming, long and hard in her mouth. Ben can’t bite back his shout.

His back hits the fabric of the chair with a thud. 739 is leaning her cheek against his leg. She’s beaming.

“How do you feel, handsome?”

Ben can only nod.

She crawls back up, until she’s planted in his lap, long legs caging his torso. 739 brushes through his hair with a gentle hand. It reminds him of how his mother use to.

“Is t-there-“ Ben clears his throat. “Is there anything I c-can do for you?”

Hazel eyes drift down from his hair to his face. Her smirk remains. But her brows begin to crease.

“What are you talking about?”

Here they go again.

“Well, when us humans do- _things_ like this, we do it for each other. Since you took care of me, I can take care of you.”

Her irises are at a standstill, burning Ben’s skin.

“Take care-?”

“Yea,” Ben wraps his useless arms around her waist. “What would you like? What makes you feel good?”

She’s silent for several moments until her eyes start doing the strange flicky thing again. And Ben realizes his mistake.

Sex androids are for the customers pleasure. And their pleasure _only._ He’s probably causing some digital internal crisis for this poor thing, her coding unable to compute self-aware requests, besides being artificial intelligence.

“H-humans-take care-“, she mumbles out. Her head is clicking back and forth.

Ben is going to break this damn thing. _Again._

He picks her up and quickly lays 739 face down into the bed. Her head keeps shifting, the mattress squeaking as her limbs begin to randomly move.

He has the latch popped in no time.

739 screams.

It’s animalistic. She’s thrashing. If anyone was to walk upon this scene, they’d think Ben was killing or raping a _real_ human. That’s how ear-piercing it is.

Ben holds her down as best he can and fumbles for the switch. She moving too much though. Ben’s able to get a good grip on her hair, stilling her neck for the precious few seconds he needs.

The screaming stops.

She stills.

Ben is too exhausted for this.

He’ll deal with her glitchy interface tomorrow. He figured out the list. He’s set for tomorrow. Everything will be fine.

Ben falls asleep with the android next to him, wet trails still drying on her face and on the comforter.

__

_It’s an early Tuesday morning when Kylo discovers a room he hasn’t seen before, in the south wing of the laboratory section. The door is the same color as the wall._

_His key bypasses all security, so he slips in easily._

_There’s file cabinets. He’s shocked to see real paper when the top drawer cracks open._

_Kylo peeks through the manila. It’s strange to hold the light and papery thing. They’re like bird wings. Feathers._

_The first folder is just numbers and coding. The second is more numbers and coding._

_These must be relics from Snoke’s past._

_He’s still on shift so Kylo must be quick. He scans through all the cabinets until there’s just one left, shoved to the very back of this cramped room. It appears more worn than the others, scuffs and dents outlining the metal._

_There’s only a few folders in the bottom shelf._

_Kylo grazes through them and yawns. Usually his snooping is a bit more…enthralling than old papers and ink. But these files are unusual. They’re nothing like their centerstage counterpoints._

_His brows knit in confusion as he keeps flipping and flipping, until he moves to the next folder, flipping frantically at this point._

_None of this makes sense._

_He places the folders back exactly the way he found him._

_Kylo hurries out of the room, making sure it’s locked before he scurries._

_There’s only word that echoes through Kylo’s brain for weeks after that:_

_Hypnosis_


	4. 4̶̺̐

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I already failed my challenge lol. I blame the LEGO SW special. 
> 
> DCB

Ben awakens to a clattering in the bathroom and light spilling through the window.

He’s confused, especially when he turns and sees 739 missing.

But the clattering happens again in the bathroom. She hasn’t run off. Hasn’t broken or stolen anything. He sighs in relief.

Groaning, Ben unfolds himself off of the sunken mattress and inches the door open with a knuckle. 739 stands in front of the mirror above the sink, combing through her shiny chestnut hair with her fingers and there’s makeup products scattered around.

_Where-?_

“Good morning, Handsome.”

Oh great. And she’s in her flirty, horny mode. At least it’s better than the alternatives.

Besides the second she graces Ben, 739 is right back to her tasks, now fixing her eyeliner. It must be some protocol, where they must always be attractive and presentable, but it still deems the mystery of-

“Where did you get the makeup?”

Her hand freezes, the tip of the black pen stopped at her temple.

She smirks, her other hand traveling down past her waist to rest on her hip, tracing the seam of her dress. She gives the fabric a few pats, then undoes the _tiniest_ zipper Ben has ever seen in his life.

Ben looks back at the counter. How the hell did she fit _that_ much into a dress pocket?

“It’s a lady’s secret,” she says, winking and reading Ben’s mind. Men must ask such simple things.

739 goes about finishing her eyeliner, then moves to her lashes. Ben’s feet stay planted, somehow, as he’s enraptured by her process. Can a robot even be an artist? Because what’s she’s doing sure as hell seems like art.

Ben moves back to the main room, shutting the door behind him. He’s been in the same clothes for over 36 hours now, and he’s desperate to just burn the sweat ridden ones. But 739 must not be too keen on privacy, because she opens the door of the bathroom right as Ben is switching pants, no shirt on.

He’s trying to cover himself and she’s _laughing._

“Oh, stop it. It’s not like it’s anything I haven’t seen before. All you men look the same. Maybe not with all those tattoos. But still _delicious._ ”

Ben cringes at the way she slurs out _delicious_ and just ignores it. He wishes she just a neutral mode. No innuendoes. No flirting. No attempted blowjobs. _Again_.

Rushing to throw the remainder of his clothes on, 739 begins to walk a lazy circle around him, ogling him. It’s not like Ben’s _not_ attracted to her.

That just happens to _be_ the problem.

“Can I switch your operating mode?” he asks, bluntly.

739 keeps striding: shoeless and caked in makeup.

“Hmmmm…” she brings a hand to her chin and rubs thoughtfully, “my manufacturer doesn’t typically allow operational switches mid-session.”

Her feet stop. 739 stares at Ben.

“But maybe for you, Handsome, I will.”

She relaxes both arms to her side, her head tilting down with them. There’s several clicking noises, some whirring and then her head rises, her eyes now that magnificent shade of green again.

He face remains expressionless. But then her nose twitches. And her eyebrows, like they’re growing familiar with her face. She looks around the room.

“Where am I?”

This android is really turning out to be a bit more than Ben bargained for.

“You’re in Arabellum. Well, more like the outskirts of Arabellum.”

“Who are you?”

“I'm Ben.” He moves a hand out for her to shake.

She grabs it hesitantly. Her emerald eyes scan him too.

“My name is Rey,” she almost whispers.

_Huh?_

“Um, wait-“ Ben’s grinning oddly, huffing at her last statement. “You have a name?”

739-no- _Rey_ nods. Like he just asked a very stupid question.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

She’s got a point. But Ben’s never met an android with a real name. Sometimes robotic animals have names, like dogs and cats. But that’s because they’re just cybernetic animals. Androids are too close to humans for their own liking and naming them feels like crossing one of God's lines.

Their hands are still interlocked. Rey draws hers back, eyes cast downward, like she’s embarrassed.

“Look, Ben- I'm sure we had a lot of fun together last night, but I have to be going.”

She turns to the door, intent on leaving, like it’s completely normal. Ben takes a large step to block her path.

“No. You can’t go out.”

She huffs, hands going on hips. So she’s sassy even when she’s in neutral. Funny.

“And what makes you say that?”

“You’re a wanted criminal out there.”

She chews a bit on her bottom lip. “Why would I be a criminal?”

_She really remembers nothing._

“You-I watched you nearly choke a man to death.” _You don’t need to know that the man was me._ “And you punched another so hard, he blacked out.”

Her eyes are lit with surprise when they finally pick up off the floor. Shock must me a common emotion for this android.

“I really…I took down _two_ men?”

Ben laughs. It’s more like a sigh.

“ _Yes,_ but that’s not the problem right now. We need to leave for Renchor as soon as possible.” He points to the boxes of files. “And those need to come with us.”

Rey whips around and looks at his…haul. She’s probably strong enough to carry five of those heavy boxes.

“I’m not helping you with anything unless you take me home,” she demands, turning back to face Ben.

He doesn’t have time for a detour, but compromising with a robot should be easy enough. “How about you come to Renchor with me and I get you a ride home, where ever that may be.”

Rey ponders the deal for a few moments, just leaving Ben to listen to his own breathing.

“What’s in Renchor?”

“Someone who can help." Ben sighs and scratches his head. "And you ask too many questions. Do we have a deal?”

It looks there’s more she wants to say, but she keeps her lips sealed. But then Rey’s nodding and goes over to the boxes, bending at a complete 90 degree angle to pick up one of them and _shit-_

“Wait,” he says, eyes still squinted shut. Ben grabs his duffle bag and produces a long button-down. One of his old work shirts. And a pair of boxers.

“Please put these on.”

Rey takes the items from his hands and runs her palms over the synthetic fiber. She blinks, looking back up to him.

“Who are you, Ben?”

He can’t say. Not really. Or at least, not right now. There’s no home for him, no _one_ for him, except for this thing he keeps hauling around like a wounded puppy. A puppy that keeps forgetting him and forgetting him, over and over again.

“I’m nobody. Get dressed. We have a long drive.”

__

Annoying pop music plays during their drive. Rey chose it. Ben prefers silence, but doesn’t want to disappoint her.

_Disappoint her? She’s a robot. She can’t even feel disappointment._

She makes no notion of the past events that have happened between the two of them. It’s like the glitch she’s suffering is wiping her memory every time it goes into crazy-panic mode. But Rey still knows who her manufacturer is, if that's what she means by home.

It’s been two hours when Rey finally breaks the silence.

“What’s in the boxes?”

Ben’s eyes remained focused on the open road. They drive through the endless forest that connects the cities. The fake trees look better in the sunlight. Yet still leafless and bare.

“Just stuff.”

He assumes Rey rolls her eyes, because she sighs dramatically and hunches back over to the window. She looks out the side of the car and sometimes up, through the moon window as well, obviously bored.

“How much longer until we get there?”

“Probably two more hours.” Ben looks up to the sky. “Three if the sun keeps hiding behind clouds.”

The music continues to play, but nobody’s listening.

“Did you kidnap me?”

Ben audibly groans and lets a hand rub against his face. He smears the exhaustion from brow to lip.

“You’re asking this _now_?”

Rey turns fully in her seat and watches his face. Maybe her programming is attempting to search the internet for facial recognition. Or she’s just weird.

“I don’t remember why we were at that motel. Did you hire me last night? Smack my head or something?”

Ben could slam on the breaks. He doesn’t.

“What?” He exclaims, voice breaking. “I didn’t do _anything_ without your consent. Actually, you did more without _my_ consent. I should be the angry one here.”

“You’d be sick to think I’d force myself on anyone, let alone a man like _you._ ”

“A man like _me_?”

Now they’re both straight-up bickering, Ben shouting about how her hands touched and grabbed when he said _no_ , and Rey automatically retorting back about her limits and amplitude services that would _never do such a thing_.

God, Ben hasn’t argued like this in a while. He didn’t talk to many of his co-workers at First Order, let alone _fight_ with them. The last person he probably argued with was his mother. Ben doesn’t even know if she’s alive anymore.

But then Ben’s foot unknowingly presses on the gas a little _too_ hard. The shouting overshadows the sound of the electrical engine revving and speeding up. And patrol cars are common on this stretch of highway.

The sirens roar behind and stop both of them instantaneously.

“Great. Fucking _great.”_

Ben is a literal dead man if they check his ID.

And so is Rey.

He floors it and Rey grabs for the door’s handle bar, bracing herself.

“What are you doing!?”

Ben keeps driving but the patrol car is edging closer to them. They must be only 300 feet away at this point. There’s no one else out here on the open road. Why even bother with one car going a little over the speed limit?

Ben glances down to the dash.

_110 m/ph_

Okay, so maybe it _is_ a little too fast. Or a lot too fast.

“Ben!”

His head keeps turning to the mirror, then the road, then over to the turbine forest. The trees are fragile enough that if he potentially drove his car across the yellow line and into the dense clearing, the patrol car wouldn’t follow. That’s too much effort for a mere speeding ticket.

Ben shifts the car into a higher horsepower. “Hold on,” he tells Rey, who appears scared out of her mind, knuckles white and clenched onto the door’s only handlebar.

The rubber screeches across warm pavement as the car bumps violently into the forest. There’s so many cracks and crevices in the poisoned dirt as the metal thuds, Ben and Rey bouncing in their seats. The boxes clatter horribly and Ben fears breaking the tablets within them, but possibly also breaking his nose or fingers. He keeps his foot steady on the pedal, paying more attention to the front of his path rather than the back.

Rey is the one to turn around.

“They're gone!”

Ben begins to slow the vehicle. They’re miles out from the highway. The shaking stops.

The metal branches sway gently in the wind, capturing the breeze with microscopic rotors, and it creates creeping shadows over the car and against their faces.

He hadn’t noticed until the blood stopped pumping in his ears, but the music is still playing. A melody of voices and instruments calms him. Even if it’s only for a minute.

Rey bids him a glance, eyes wide.

“Something tells me I’m not the only wanted person in this car.”

He doesn’t have time or care to snipe back at her comment. Ben arguing with 739- _Rey_ \- whatever she is, is the reason there in this mess to begin with.

That’s not true though. The very first day, the very first _second_ Ben started doubting things is why this all started.

He shouldn’t be blaming a blameless android.

“I’m wanted for a far worse reason than you. Trust me.” Ben sighs, unlocking open the doors with his fingerprint. “I…borrowed some things from my previous place of employment.”

Rey turns and stares at the car’s trunk. “You mean those boxes back there? The _stuff_?”

Ben nods. He _could_ tell her everything. Her memory seems to be wiping every 12 hours anyways.

“Yes.”

She settles back against the seat, looking off to the dense forest, her leg bent and chin resting against her knee.

“What’s in them?”

_Enough. Too much. Too little._

“Things that need to be shared and exposed. Bad people are doing bad things.”

Rey takes a minute to consider his words, the music fading in and out.

“But…if you were an employee there, and those are from _your_ work, previous or not, wouldn’t that make you bad, too?”

He gulps.

_Yes._

_Yes, it would._

The butterfly door hitches upwards and Ben hops out, heart too heavy in throat to answer. When he observes the car, there’s some steam and sparks near the primary exhaust vent. The speed light car is dead. The tumble must have burned out the battery.

Ben knew there would be a price to pay if he did this. But he never thought it would be _this_ terrible. And exhausting. And hungry.

He’s in the trunk again, rifling through things. He double checks nothing is broken, unlike the car, and finds the tablets all in one piece. There’s some dehydrated bits he can eat to stave off his hunger. They’re not delicious in the slight, but it’ll do.

Ben takes a seat on one of the tree’s large artificial roots poking up from the soil. Might as well enjoy the sun when he can see it.

Rey’s out of the car now too. She isn't angry, maybe a little irritated, but not angry.

She appears intrigued too, just inspecting the engine and exhaust port, probably noting the same damage herself. There’s no whirring or clicking when she scans it.

Ben takes a minute to appreciate her in his shirt, much too large for her tiny frame, and the simple navy boxers that peek out below the white polyester. If this was any other drive, or any other day- hell, if they were _anyone_ else, the level of intimacy would make Ben’s heart soar. To see such a beautiful woman, a woman who does not back down from a fight, so causally in something of _his_ is just _-_

_Unexpected._

There’s not many other words Ben can drum up. Excited perhaps? No. Not for anything like this.

“I didn’t expect you to do _that_ , if I’m being honest.” She clasps her hands behind her back, and waltzes over to Ben. “What are you doing?”

Ben looks up from the tin foil bag. “I’m eating.”

She doesn’t say anything back. Instead, she does that thing with her nose again, where she scrunches it then twists it back and forth.

It’s cute.

He nods his head over from the engine then back to her. “I think I could jump start it with a cable hookup to you. There’s a cord in the trunk. Go grab it.”

Going straight back to his food, Ben hardly hears her offended gasp.

“ _Excuse_ me?”

It’s like acid, her tone.

Ben doesn’t understand why.

“Uhh…There’s a cord…in the trunk. Go grab it.” Maybe she’s having trouble computing due to her glitch. If he needs to explain things twice to have them done, so be it. “Please?”

Now she’s laughing. Its hearty and sarcastic and Ben literally cannot hide his confusion.

“What the _fuck_ are you talking about?” Rey screeches, still laughing. “Hook up to _me?_ What the hell do you think I am?”

_Is…is this not obvious to her?_

Ben gulps. “Um. An android?”

Rey’s eyes bore into him, as his to hers. It’s like she’s waiting for him to take back what he said. Like this is all a _ha-ha_ funny joke. But when Ben says nothing and only the wind howls through the carbon trees, her face falls.

“I-I’m not an-“

Then she glitches.

Fucking _again._

Her spine freezes, neck locked, as her knees begin to buckle below her. Ben drops his food and catches right before her head can hit the ground and notices her eyes are shifting colors _violently._

His fingers race to unlatch the back of her neck and the movements stops, calm washing over them as she’s sent into sleep mode.

Ben desperately wishes he had the knowledge to fix whatever the hell is going on with her programming. And her self-awareness.

Is it common for androids of her classification to be so…smart? Rey doesn’t even _believe_ she’s a robot. Maybe her previous owner convinced her otherwise.

He glances back to the car, where he knows the contents of his trunk may hold the answers.

They can’t go anywhere until she’s fixed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think the most unrealistic thing about this fic so far is the size of Rey's hidden dress pocket tbh


	5. 5̴̥͌͛̕

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Depression has been a bit of a kicker lately, but I'm really trying to write more to overcome it. Thank you for waiting to patiently for this chapter. I'll try and get them out as soon as I can. 
> 
> There are new tags and triggers for this chapter. Please be advised. 
> 
> DCB

_“You’re a bright star in this world, Kylo. It would be a shame if you were extinguished.”_

_He gulps. Kylo’s only here because he has no where else to go._

_Snoke sits like a statue, monstrous in ego but average in reality. His hair, or lack thereof, is greasy like his aging skin. Kylo Ren is afraid of seldom things._

_“Sir, I’m just here to run the money back and forth,” he says calmly, “I don’t want to cause any trouble.”_

_Snoke clasps his hands together and rests his chin upon them. He doesn’t grin. Never smiles. But he does smirk._

_“Then tell me dear boy, what were you doing here so late last night? And after I’d told you to mind your own business?”_

_Kylo thought he was careful enough. Obviously he wasn’t._

_“Just some last-minute data sheets for the TT10 order, sir. Nothing much else.”_

_He is sweating through the lie._

_And Snoke is good at reading people. Too good at it, in fact._

_“You have two options.” Snoke makes no move to stand. In fact, Kylo is the one currently towering over his boss. But they both know who really holds the power here._

_“You either confess what exactly you have…learned about this company. Or you show yourself to the basement.”_

_Kylo feels his blood run cold. Sure, Snoke makes it seem like he has a choice, but there was never one anyways. If he wants to make it out alive today, he’s going to have to play along._

_“I found nothing of any importance,” Kylo starts. If he makes this all minuscule, then no harm._

_Right?_

_The old man doesn’t blink. Cold, blue eyes meet terrified amber ones._

_“_ _You’re a horrible liar, Solo.”_

_Kylo straightens his spine. His bones hurt. They’re all crushing his nerves._

_“But it appears you’ve made your choice. If you won’t tell me anything, then I’ll let them.”_

_He’s seen what happens with disobedient employees. Those who believe what they’re doing here is wrong. Or that Snoke is unethical. Or anything that would doubt the legitimacy of First Order Operations._

_Kylo is about to make a mistake. He just knows it. But he can’t handle any more pain. Not anymore._

_“What are you doing with those girls?”_

_His voice is almost to a whisper when he asks it. But it still echos like a poisonous orchestra, playing a song for the devil himself._

_And Snoke has the audacity to chuckle._

_“I told Hux to be more careful. But he’s only human, unfortunately.” He stands up and Kylo physically flinches backwards. “Follow me.”_

_They’re lead out of his massive office and down the hall towards the labs and away from the cubicles. People stare. Kylo keeps his eyes trained to the wrinkles on Snoke’s suit, afraid the eyes on the back of his head can stare back._

_He tries not to panic when they enter the tiled hallways that connect the major labs together. But it doesn’t matter because they’re in lab 134B before Kylo can run. Not like he has anywhere to go._

_All Kylo comprehends is white, at first. White lab coats, white lights, white walls, white floors. It’s all too pristine and it makes him want to choke._

_“Dr. Trach is our specialist,” Snoke purrs, closing the door behind them. “He’ll be taking care of this.”_

_Still too frozen in fear, Kylo remains standing in front of the rows of lab benches. Engineers and scientists continue working despite their boss entering most likely for the first time._

_Dr. Trach is a tall man with dark, sullen eyes. He seems unfazed. Giving him just a once over, the doctor motions for Kylo to follow. And like moments before, he never had a choice to begin with._

_They enter a room pitch black besides some muffled noises coming from the center. The second door is closed behind them and they’re bathed in darkness until a small switch sounds and Kylo cannot hold back his gasp._

_In the center of this rather bare room sits three girls all in various states of undress and unconsciousness. Facing towards the right wall, two of them are bobbing in and out, metal limbs connected to real flesh from below their elbows and below their knees. The third woman is less fortunate: there’s no metal attached to her yet besides the metal cuffs that bound her stumps to the chair. She’s gagged and crying, forest green eyes turned and begging Kylo. He can’t imagine the pain she must be in._

_“T-this is…what-“_

_Kylo had seen over a dozen of them tied up already to tables last night. But none of them looked like…this._

_True panic sets in and Kylo runs backwards to the door where he’s met with two of Snoke’s bodyguards, like they were expecting him to escape. Dr. Trach fetches a fourth chair and sets it aside to the only awoken girl. Kylo is forced into it moments later with the same harnesses. He struggles and struggles, having no idea what Snoke has planned for him._

_Kylo never knows what Snoke has planned._

_Grinning, he stands before Kylo and the girl, her chestnut hair tangled and falling into her face. Was she awake when they sawed off her limbs?_

_He fears the same fate for himself._

_“You’re not the ideal subject for our experimentation, Kylo,” Snoke hums. “While you would make an interesting hypothesis, our clients only have need for the girls. Not some brandish idiot like you.”_

_Kylo tries to respond but finds that he too is gagged._

_“There is one thing I’d like to try though.”_

_Dr. Trach hands Snoke some kind of clicker and he thumbs it thoughtfully. The woman next to him stops crying and when Kylo looks over, there’s a needle in her neck. Snoke begins clicking in a strange pattern, almost like morse code._

_Kylo is frightened._

_He had no idea Snoke was this possessed. This evil. To perform cybernetic experiments on humans is dangerously illegal and lethal. Even the black market veers away from such methods._

_Another needle, or perhaps the same one, is inserted into his neck. Everything blurs and focuses to a tunnel of vision, the sound of rhythmic clicking and Snoke's voice being the only things Kylo hears._

_“You will forget everything you have seen. Aphrodite. Sailboat. Foster.”_

_Click-click, click, click-click_

_“You will continue to obey myself and the First Order. Tennis. Socrates. Motorbike.”_

_Click, click-click, click-click_

_“And you are not, nor will ever, be possessed by your humanity ever again. Marble. Crow. Indigo.”_

_The sound stops._

_Kylo’s world blacks._

____

This is probably the most amount of reading Ben has done for a long time.

He turns on the _J700_ tablet and searches through the table of contents. He’d already gone through a majority of it during last night’s situation. There’s a small section about personality cards and the tricky knob.

Ben carries her back to the car and sits back in the driver’s seat, the sun becoming too much to bear. It’s poisonous due to the amount of chemicals that still reside in the atmosphere, so it’s quite unhealthy to be out there long anyways.

The guide tells him that there may be a problem with the personality chip. The chip holds the accent, tendencies, and artificial emotions of each android and they differ from model to model. Ben has never meet an android with such spunk programmed into it. She must be rare. Perhaps more expensive than he thought.

Rey lies sideways in the seat. He unlatches the back of her neck and removes the chip, examining it. Unlike the graphic that Ben sees in the guide, there’s a purple stripe that wraps around the entire chip. Maybe that was done by her previous owner.

Curious, he inserts the chip into the tablet. It opens up access to a preview of her programing including her current battery life, year, make and model, and strangely enough, her entire dictionary.

He'll get to that in a bit. 

There's another section Ben missed last time. It deals with the liquid and oils that run through her body and limbs, much like blood would pump with a beating heart. There's an internal device that does move the liquid around. It's not natural enough to be a heart but when Ben palms the side of her chest where it's located, he feels the vibrating rhythm. 

The beating feels just like his own. 

But her blood is not. It's comprised of all kinds of chemicals, that ends up a black-ish blue color if ever exposed. Ben tries to search if semen would have any effect to the liquid but the guide tells him it shouldn't.

That's what she's built for, after all. A literal vessel for bodily fluids. 

Wanting to move on, Ben switches tabs to her dictionary section. Maybe the word “human” is causing some kind of short circuit? He searches through the program to find that it’s not. He searches “humanity” and that one is allowed, too. There is a blacklist though, at the very bottom of the document he searches through. It’s written in bold and so incredibly tiny, he pinches the screen to zoom in.

**TENNIS**

**APHRODITE**

**CROW**

**SOCRATES**

**MARBLE**

**SAILBOAT**

**FOSTER**

**MOTORBIKE**

**INDIGO**

It’s an incredibly…odd list of words, Ben thinks. Some of them seem rather useful for an android living in a bustling place like Drove City, like “motorbike” or “indigo”. There’s no way Johnny had the knowledge to program something so extensive. But at least he knows what words to avoid now.

Ben blows on it and polishes the chip with his shirt before re-inserting. She might just need a classic reboot. Ben remembers doing this with his dad’s vintage video game consoles as a child.

He examine the rest of the control panel. Nothing looks busted or broken.

Repeating the same movement he did last night, Ben turns the knob a full 360 degrees. Clicking ensues until she sits up straight in the seat, eyes glazed and unstaring out to the artificial landscape. Rey processes the surroundings until she turns to Ben.

“Hello, my name is J739. How may I help you today?”

Ben lets out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding and is quick to run to the trunk. He shoves the tablet back into one of the boxes and grabs the cable hookup, rounding to the passenger side of the car.

“I need you to start this car back up.”

He holds out the cable to her. She just stares at it.

“I am not meant for this task.”

_Here we go again._

“Yes, I’m aware this isn’t really your purpose,” he tries explaining, “but I- _we_ need to get going as soon as possible and this is the only way.”

Clicking sounds. Rey is hesitant, but she picks up the smaller end of the cable and inserts it slowly to the hookup at the tail end of her neck. When Ben hears it connect, he moves to the front of the car and connects it to the charger, holding it still.

“Okay! Try it now!”

She closes her eyes. They sit in silence for what feels like minutes until the relieving sound of the light speed’s car sounds, engine roaring back to life.

“Thank god,” Ben says under his breath.

Unhooking Rey from the car, he tosses it into the back seat (who knows if they’ll need it again, Ben sure hopes not) and sits himself back in the driver’s seat.

Slowly, and trying not to destroy his car a second time, Ben reverses until they see the main road, sun beginning to set and cast an orange glow across the asphalt.

Rey stays quiet.

Actually, she stays quiet for _two whole hours._

Ben should be thankful. She didn’t request that horrible pop music nor is she sitting here and bitching to him, complaining and accusing him of things he never did. Rey’s eyes just stare lifeless, gazing out to the road as they grow closer to the pink and purple lights of Renchor. Sunset has come and go. Black envelopes the skyscrapers of the city, a cloud of nearly solid pollution hovering right above the building, waiting to strike for the kill.

What would she say about this? Would Rey be commenting on how filthy this place is?

He doesn’t want to say it but Ben misses her. Even though she’s only sitting inches away.

Maybe the Rey that was is no longer of existence. Maybe she was the glitch all along.

It pains him to think that way.

They’re to another hotel, a third for Ben now, that doesn’t require a name or phone number for his stay. Discretion appears to be a favorable asset of such a place and Ben can’t imagine what debauchery and sin has waltzed through these rotating doors.

Rey can thankfully walk. She just follows, much like the puppy he’s compared her to a couple times now. He really hates her forgetfulness right now. Ben longs to talk to something that’s not a computer.

They enter the room that stands on the 11th floor. Ben _will_ have someone to talk too and hopefully it will be as soon as tomorrow. Lando will be sending him coordinates as soon as day breaks and maybe, just _maybe,_ this will all be coming to an end.

Lando can take Rey to her destination.

Attachment was never part of Ben’s plan.

The boxes of files still remain in his car, hidden in another alley that Rey helped pile garbage atop of. She didn’t complain about the smell (not like scent affects her) nor did she protest the hard work it required. She just followed commands like an android _should._ Because that's all she is: an android. 

It would be a bad idea to try and mess with the knob again, Ben knows. She's following his commands. She’s not trying to wrestle and give him a hand job. Hell, Rey isn’t even _speaking._

He hates it.

He orders her to lay down and rest for the night. Ben doesn’t know if she’ll go into voluntarily sleep mode but her battery is high enough that she doesn’t need to. Ben is human though- he’s washed and ready for bed. He scarfs down a MRE and it’s tasteless. But it’s food, even for how dehydrated it is.

Rey lies like a wooden plank, still wearing his button-down and boxers. He’s only in boxers, seeing as she doesn’t care.

Words fumble around his mouth, jaw clenching. Will she respond back? He knows she’s listening.

Forming the courage, Ben whispers out, “Rey?”

Of course, clicking ensues at the sound of his voice.

In the dark, he sees her face and head turn to his side of the bed. Her blue eyes are lit only by the pinkish lights dancing through the single window of the hotel room. They shine on his face as well, curves and shadows carved by the light.

Unexpectedly, Rey reaches a hand out and carefully traces the shapes of light that pool around his face.

Gentle fingers follow a path from his temple to his cheek, until they rest on the bridge of his large and angular nose. Ben has always hated his nose.

“Did you know magenta is the only color man must make?” She tells him, voice low and robotic. “You cannot find magenta on this earth; it’s a creation only possible because of human interference.”

Ben’s brows narrow and hunch at her odd fact. He’s not sure where any of this is coming from.

“Why are you telling me this?”

Ice blue eyes meet his. There is no emotion. No longing. Nothing.

“Because we are in a world surrounded by magenta yet there's no color in sight. It fills us. It’s all we know.”

Her cryptic words make him shiver. Ben understands but not enough to completely follow her point.

“Rey, magenta is just a color.” Ben sighs, grasping and removing her hand from his face. Hopefully she’ll stop speaking. Her unwavering and emotionless tone makes him shiver in an awful way.

And for several minutes, she does.

Rey turns away from him and stares at the ceiling, legs and arms slacked. She’s so silent for so long, that Ben barely catches what she says before he’s falling into the pits of fitful sleep.

“ _Who is Rey?_ ”

Ben is too exhausted to remain awake.

But the words remain and haunt his dreams.

__

_He doesn’t remember or understand how he got home but Kylo wakes up in his own bed, surrounded by black cotton sheets and pillows arranged in an unfamiliar pattern. His neck somewhat aches but it's most likely due to the odd angle he slept in._

_Kylo glances at the clock. It’s early. He doesn’t have to be at work for a few hours._

_Rubbing his face, he rises to make himself a cup of coffee. There’s something a the edge of is brain-like a puzzle piece to a memory. But no matter how much he scrunches his face or swirls the skin at his temple, he can’t remember._

_Shrugging, he begins his morning routine._

_Back to another day at First Order Operations._


	6. 6̷͎̿

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh I super happy to update! Please enjoy!
> 
> There's a lot of triggering content in this chapter so I put the chapter content in the end notes.  
> Peep updated tags too.
> 
> DCB

Unlike Lando’s flashy personality, his methods are secretive and calm.The coordinates are plain and sent with a simple message:

_10\. Bring nothing but the information_

He had to leave Rey back in the hotel room, much to his personal dismay. She was in sleep mode last time Ben checked. Hopefully she’ll remain that way and not cause any more trouble for him.

Hopefully.

The car was untouched when he inspected it this morning too. No one is going to voluntarily pick up garbage in this city so it should stay hidden.

They’re supposed to meet in 2 hours time, so Ben wanders the hallowed streets of Renchor. The markets aren’t open yet but the vending machines never close. You can buy anything from a vending machine here. A hot meal. An article clothing. First Order even manufactured vending machines that carried particular drugs. He’s not sure where they would have been installed. Surely not here.

Ben buys a tasteless bowl of machine ramen. It’s hot but disgusting. More than some can afford in Renchor though.

Lando’s choice of location ends up being a tea house. _Madame Fe’s_ flashes in bright, red neon lights, beckoning Ben and other early morning guests to a cup of Jasmine or Green.

It sits at the bottom of a small three story building. Crammed full of people already, Lando is easy to spot in the very back far corner, sipping on a small ceramic cup and scrolling on his tablet. Ben walks with no suspicion and full confidence, swinging his jacket off and setting it on the chair’s back. He takes a quick seat, eyes lowered to the table.

Even after all this time, after everything they’ve both been through, Ben cannot look this man in the eyes.

He’ll feel the same thing he felt with his father.

But the past must be far behind Lando. He claps a hand on Ben’s shoulder and shakes him a bit. It knocks Ben out of his mild panic attack and he looks up, eyes still only gazing at Lando’s chin.

“It’s good to see you again, Ben.”

There’s no malice in his voice. No evil. If Ben knew better, he would believe the greeting to be warm and welcoming.

“I’m sorry to inconvenience you,” Ben mutters out, “but I have no one else to go to.”

Lando removes his hand off Ben’s shoulder and huffs, taking another sip of tea. He places a cup in front of Ben and pours before even asking, but he knows Ben will use anything for a distraction, including a cup of scolding water.

“You’re not an inconvenience, Ben Solo. Never were.”

Lando cringes a little.

“...Okay, well maybe you _were_ for a couple of years there, but it’s good to see you’ve left that all behind.”

Memories wave back into Ben’s head, much like the radioactive seas that surround them. Years of anger and sadness; hopelessness and desperation. The further Ben parts that sea, the more things become exposed. And he would have been scared only a week ago to do so.

“I’ve left it but it’s too late. He’s been dead for what, seven years now? Eight? _That’s_ when it should have mattered.” Ben takes a moment and gathers the tea cup into his hands. “Now I’m nothing but a defect to them. A traitor.”

Lando seems to take in his words carefully. He continues sipping until he must refill his cup. His hands shake the pot a little, death now a close friend rather than a distant stranger.

“You know there’s another like you, right?”

Ben was prepared to take his first drink but his hand freezes mid-air. Eyes lock to Lando’s, finally.

“What are you talking about?”

“Another defect,” Lando explains, “just like yourself. He worked as a scientist, though. Knows a helluva lot about the atrocities happening in those First Order labs.”

Ben perks up. “Really? Can I talk to him? Do you know whe-“

“Hold on a minute, cowboy.” The older man lifts a gloved finger up to pause Ben. “Finn isn’t really a _public_ man after his escape. Likes to keep to shadows. He didn’t have any documentation though, like you do. So no one believed him.”

Ben thinks back to the light speed car cleverly hidden away, millions and millions of data files ripe for exposure.

“Is there anyone else with you?” Lando asks, glancing around the tea house.

_Not technically_ Ben chides to himself. But might as well tell Lando about Rey. Maybe he’ll know what the hell is wrong with her.

“Just a model J700 sex android,” he tells him awkwardly, hands up in defense, “but I’m not using her for, _you know-_ “

“Her purpose?” The man is _grinning._ Lando Calrissian is still Lando Calrissian after all.

Ben groans. “ _Yes_. She’s with me because of an…accident and I felt bad leaving her behind. So now she’s just the Bonnie to my Clyde, I guess. Without all the robberies and shooting of course.”

The grin turns to a chuckle. “Nice metaphor you got there, kid. A little dramatic and that’s coming from _me.”_

Now throughly embarrassed, Ben hides his blushing cheeks behind the small teacup. The last thing he wants to be called is _dramatic._ Sure, he can be a bit bratty sometimes. Moody? Yes. But dramatic? No.

“She has this problem though. I’ve never seen it with her model,” Ben says, lowering the teacup. “Anytime I refer to “humans” or anything regarding a…choice or desire, she goes bat shit and starts screaming.”

“Screaming?”

Ben nods. “Yea. And once time she wasn’t even aware she _was_ an android. Rey acted just like a-“

“Human. Like a human being.” Lando finishes. There’s a strange look on his face.

Like he knows what Ben is talking about.

Sitting a little straighter in his cushioned chair, Ben looks around and leans in, whispering. “What exactly did this guy, _Finn,_ tell you about the FO?”

Lando then repeats the same move, hesitant.

“I don’t know if you’ll believe me. Hell, I barely believed _Finn_ when he told me but…”

Lando gulps.

“They’re creating cyborgs. Android-Human hybrids.”

Fear creeps into the bad of Ben’s mind. There’s no way-

“How can you tell the difference? Between a cyborg and an android?” He’s desperate to know. Too desperate, actually.

“It’s hard to tell. First Order did a damn good job with whatever hellish operation was happening. Their lower limbs: forearms, hands, feet and calves, are all artificial. The transition to real flesh is seamless. And all the other android features are there: control panel, programming, fiberglass eyes, carbon structuring, etcetera.”

Ben thinks back to anything that would have been unusual for an android, beside Rey’s incoherent bursts. Silicone flesh feels too much like real skin. But is silicone as warm as hers? As soft? If they keep everything above the knees natural then-

“What about their internal organs? Like, I don’t know, a vagina? Would that be real?”

A moment passes.

“Yes.” Lando stares down at the tea-stained table cloth. “They have metallic slips over their organs to preserve them but everything else is unfortunately natural.”

Now Ben is _really_ trying to remember how Rey felt that first night. Hazy and tipsy memories of her warmth radiate and create a low rise in his belly that Ben _must_ keep at bay. He’s not getting hard in the middle of _Madame Fe’s_ teahouse.

Besides, there’s bigger things to worry about.

“Is it reversible? Is there some kind of programming that could help? Could I-“

Lando stops him with a pointed finger. “Before I can share anything else with you, I need that list.”

Nodding, Ben fishes the tiny data stick out of his pants pocket. He’s had to rewear these trousers twice now and they feel disgusting. But beggars aren’t choosers when they’re fleeing.

He hands it over without hesitation. Lando is probably the last person in the world he can trust besides his-

Gulping, Ben finally works the question out that’s been on his mind for years.

“Is my mom still alive?” His voice is so quiet. Deadly. He fears Lando will say _no_. But he’s also terrified he’ll say _yes_.

He stays silent for a minute and glances around the tea room’s lavish and red interior. Velvet adorns the walls and collides hideously with the mauve velvet chairs, observing that none of the shades _quite_ match. There’s green lamps hanging from the ceiling that mimic emerald.

Emerald, like most natural things in this world, is scarce and depleted.

“She’s in Port Bay,” Lando exhales.

Ben exhales too. He must have been holding his breath unknowingly.

“That’s, um-“

Ben has no words. He’s happy to hear she’s still alive. It feels like a metric ton of lead has flown off his chest, allowing him to breathe once more. But would she ever want to see him again? After what Ben has done, how could she?

It was never his parents fault that they couldn’t understand him. Ben could admit he was an oddball. The black sheep of the flock. And never once did they cast him out or aside. But there was always a level of miscommunication and unease, no matter how much his parents would reassure.

Maybe that’s why he volunteered his father for the testing trials at First Order.

_It was a miscommunication_ , Ben tries to tell himself.

_He’d told his father that they were coming to help._

_The First Order knows what they’re doing._

His mother said Han had screamed for the first time in years when they took him.

_You have a bad heart. It’s going to fail unpredictably. What will mom do if that happens?_

Hux claimed that they only used force because Han had become a crazy, senile man.

And being the naive son of a bitch he was then, Ben _believed_ him.

As Ben sits in the middle of some withering tea room, years later, it all begins to make sense. The First Order would have been in the earliest stages of human experimentation. His father was only a lab rat to them.

How did Ben not realize that?

There was never a ventricular assist device for Han. It was all a front. And he should have known.

_His body couldn’t handle the surgery, Kylo. It’s no one’s fault. Perhaps yours, if you think too hard about it, but that man was weighing you down. Just like your name did._

What had they done to him? Did his mother know all along?

_Mom…_

“Where in Port Bay is she?” Ben asks. His voice is too much like a child’s. “Is she staying with Luke?”

Lando stays silent. He's usually a man of many, _many_ words. He’s pouring another cup for himself, then topping off Ben’s as well. He fumbles the cup, jaw working but not making a single sound. The clinks of porcelain clattering fills the air. And so does the dampening of one’s soul.

“...Leia is buried in Port Bay. With your father.”

The tea cup shatters in Ben’s hand.

Water burns his fingertips. He doesn’t notice.

In his defense, Lando reacts like any person would to hot, steaming water seeping into the table cloth and dripping over one’s self. He stands up, trying to stop the flow with his napkin while Ben’s vision blurs in and out, his hope crashing every millisecond.

“I h-have to go.” He stands up, meeting Lando in height. “I need, I need…”

_I need to cry. I need to hold someone. Or someone needs to hold me._

He’s throwing his pleather jacket back on, ignoring whatever words the man across from him is attempting to say. But he can only think of one thing. Of one person who isn’t even really a person _but might be._

_“_ _I need Rey.”_

__

He turns and sprints out of the cafe, nearly colliding with a waitress. Down the concrete path of the junk jungle Ben runs, bile rising is his throat and tears threatening to spill. There might be blood running down his fingers but everything is too numb.

Even the receptionist shouts at Ben when he rushes through the doors of the hotel, telling him to slow down. If he’s not careful, she could call the police and this could all be over.

At least Lando has what he needs. Just for now.

When the elevator reaches the 11th floor, there’s some muffled cries happening down the hall. Terror seizing him even further, Ben is to their room in quick footsteps, wrenching open the door with his automatic key.

The sobs were coming from Rey.

She’s pinned beneath a man, both of them completely naked. It doesn’t look like he forced his way in though- the door’s lock is completely intact. Her clothes are folded neatly on the floor. His wallet is on her nightstand, which could only mean-

Rey had _invited_ this man in.

They both notice his intrusion, the man swearing and nearly falling off the bed. He curses at Ben, trying to gather up his clothes while Rey remains limp. Tears roll down her face.

“What the _fuck_ man? Are you her owner or something?” The man asks, genuinely confused.

Ben locks his fists, rage slowly replacing the mourning in his veins. The notion of _protect_ hums in his skull, eyes darting back and forth to the man and Rey.

With the few seconds Ben has granted him, at least the guy’s pants are back on. But when he makes the attempted dash to the door, Ben grabs him by tan shoulders, throwing him back. A growl escapes him and both men are now wrestling, Ben with the advantage of height and the random man’s advantage of pure strength.

It’s enough to slam Ben’s knees to the ground. The man shoves him off, obviously not looking to harm Ben which is even _more_ confusing-

“I’m a paying customer, jackass!” He screeches. “She brought me here! She’s just doing her job, you fuck head!”

Rey’s quiet cries tell a different story.

“Then what’s wrong with her? What did you do to her?!”

Both men whip their faces to the frail-looking woman who _should_ have the strength to push any man she so deems off her. Androids are strong.

Humans, although, are _not._

Leaving his spot, the man crosses quickly to the nightstand and holds up a tiny object, Ben squinting and trying to figure out what it is.

“Is that-?”

“Her personality chip.” The man looks annoyed now, breath huffing. “I couldn’t stand the stupid things she kept saying. And I read that when you take this thing out, they’re just a doll. I just wanted a sex doll, man. Not all of-“ he motions over to Rey, deathly still “- _this.”_

Now Ben is confused. Rey must have woken up and gone down to the streets during his time away, advertising herself, like most sex androids of her class-action are programmed to do, and attempted to do her job. While Ben understands that her flirting is a little _excessive_ and removing the chip is logical, what he doesn’t understand is why she’s crying. Or why she was struggling.

And the man is technically right. He’s a paying customer. He’s not getting what he wants. So it makes sense for him to practically force her.

“Look, I don’t want to fight you. Honestly. You’re a big guy and I just wanted to get my dick wet.” He grabs his wallet, setting the chip down and backs up to the door. “Let me leave and you’ll never hear from me. Just let me leave.”

Ben remains on the ground, knees aching and brain buzzing. All his worst fears are suddenly coming to light and he’s frightened to know if his theory is true.

Finally alone, Ben surges up and hovers over Rey. Her breaths come in quick short bursts and he’s unsure how to help.

Her eyes are green. Not blue. Not brown. Green.

“Ben,” she chokes out, hand reaching to him and giving the permission to touch her.

He gathers Rey up in large arms, her carbon neck cold against his chest. He’s surprised Rey even remembers him. With her personally chip removed she shouldn’t be able to speak. She _should_ be a doll. 

And here she is, calling out _his_ name and crying.

Like a-

“Rey, I need you to answer a _very_ important question.”

She meets his eyes, misty and frightened, perhaps just like his.

“How old are you?”

She takes controls of her lungs once more, trying to muster words while Ben rocks her as gently as possible. It’s like waiting for the inevitability of death, of destruction. We all know it’s sure to come but it still scares us, no matter how much we ignore it.

“I-I’m-“ her jaw trembles, “I’m twenty-two. My b-birthday is March eighteenth, I-“

Rey cuts herself off, choosing to bury her face into Ben’s shirt and sob again.

And Ben is trying to hold himself together, trying not to join her in the sheer angst of what he’s just learned.

_Because J700 sex androids were invented only ten years ago._

_And they don't have birthdays._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER CONTENT  
> Ben meets Lando and they discuss FO. When Ben asks about his mother, he finds out that she has passed and panics. He runs back to the hotel to find Rey being raped but the man having sex with her thinks its consensual because she agreed beforehand. There is a small fight between Ben and the man, Rey is in shock.


End file.
